


Tremors

by alexanderlightweight



Series: Michael Guerin Week 2019 [5]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Michael Guerin Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 05:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanderlightweight/pseuds/alexanderlightweight
Summary: Valenti still wasn't someone Michael would call up to go get a beer, but he was someone he could count on.





	Tremors

**Author's Note:**

> (Part of the Michael Guerin Week 2019)
> 
> Prompt: Always Support the Bottom

“This is why,” Kyle complained as he tried and failed to stabilize the pallet, “you always support the bottom.”

Next to him Michael snorted, not even bothering to hide the laugh that bubbled out of his throat.

“Alex isn’t here,” he said without actually meaning to and beside him, Kyle cursed and then Michael was throwing out his powers in order not to lose the equipment.

“I am going to _kill_ you,” Kyle finally said and Michael honestly couldn’t tell if he was upset or amused. 

“Good luck with that,” was what he said instead and started pulling along the makeshift raft. 

“I don’t need luck,” Kyle muttered, “I’m going to tell Alex and let _him_ deal with you.” 

That had Michael wincing. He actually hadn’t spoke to Alex in a few weeks and the idea of this being their conversation starter, was not a pleasant one. “What’s it going to take for you not to do that?” He asked as he finished lifting the equipment into the back of his truck. 

Kyle paused and surveyed both Michael, his truck and their haul before he smirked. Michael’s insides twisted and he suddenly had a lot more empathy for why Max constantly lost control around the guy.

“More help like this,” Kyle said and patted the tailgate of Michael’s beloved truck, “I’m setting up an emergency medical lab at one of the bunkers we found. It’ll take me half the time if you help.”

It only took him a moment of looking into serious eyes and then Michael sighed and nodded his agreement. He’d rather not be agreeing to spending his free time with Valenti, but he knew the lab was for his, Isobel and Max’s convenience. Also, if it kept Valenti’s mouth shut, all the better.

It took a few weeks, as Valenti assured him there was no rush. Just quick hauls here and there and Michael settling in to help set up equipment. The most surprising part of the whole endeavor was how particular Valenti was being. Oh, he kept the place sterile, but he also added decorations that didn’t belong in anything resembling a makeshift lab or office. 

There were pictures of everything from the desert to beautiful prints of nebulas to, sunsets and flowers. The medical equipment was stored neatly out of sight and the curtains that separated the examining table from the rest of the room were almost horrifically bright. The final and most confusing aspect, was the fact that Valenti had gathered a variety of scrubs, all in different sizes and with everything from unicorns to palm trees to rockets. 

“I don’t really think this is mine or Isobel’s style,” he finally said mockingly after unpacking yet another bright, childish pattern. “Liz might be able to get Max to wear it, but it will probably wash him out.” 

From his side, Valenti snorted and then muttered, “I would pay to never have to see him in those.” 

“Why all of this stuff anyway?” He asked, “I thought we were doing a good enough job sneaking in and out of the hospital or using Max’s place?” 

From across the room, Valenti paused and then he sighed and slowly put down the plastic box of sterile gauze and wipes he’d been sorting. “Have you talked to Alex recently?”

Stung, Michael shook his head, left hand clenching in a way it shouldn’t be able to as he reminded himself to breathe. 

“Figures,” Valenti muttered and then sighed, “look, after… _after_,” he waved his hand and didn’t extrapolate but Michael knew what he meant, “we came back with a lot of data. There’s a lot of information to go through but we also don’t know how long it will take to go through it. Or how to narrow it down without the risk of missing something. This set up, we need it to be safe.” When Michael just crossed his arms, Valenti sighed again, “Alex and I are working to help, Michael. Which means _if_ there are other survivors, we’re going to need somewhere safe we can take them. We can’t take them to a hospital,” he continued, as if his words hadn’t caused Michael’s throat to dry up and his eyes to sting, “and Max’s place is far from inconspicuous. This is the safest place but it’s not really hospitable. The last thing they need is another cold and hostile environment. The,” here Valenti waved his hand at the ridiculous amount of color, “stuff, it’s just to make it seem a little more welcoming and less like a prison.”

Michael swallowed back the words that he wouldn’t, couldn’t say just yet. Nodded his head tilted his hat a little further over his eyes because he hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t been able to let himself hope, for any of this.

There was something like a resigned sigh, then Valenti moved and pressed a hand firmly against his shoulder, didn’t say anything and didn’t linger. Just climbed up the ladder and left Michael to stare at his surroundings with a new understanding and hope.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, just that he spent it wandering around the bunker. Really taking in the changes that Valenti had made, but this time with an eye of understanding rather than amusement. It made him feel brittle and all the numb parts of him were tender.

There was the clunk of feet on the stairs, then movement at his back but he didn’t turn, just waited until hands gently soothed over his shoulders and he relaxed into the touch.

“Kyle called me,” Alex told him, voice quiet and soothing in a way that settled Michael’s bursting thoughts. “Hey, it’s okay. Michael, _it’ll be okay_.” 

It wasn’t until he was turning, backing Alex up against the nearest wall, arms surrounding him and fingers grasping and clutching at him in a desperate hug that Michael realized the high pitched noise wasn’t his ears ringing. 

It was him. 

Alex didn’t shush him, just tightened his embrace and let Michael bury his head against his neck. His hat was knocked off and a hand immediately burrowed deep into his curls and a palm pressed tenderly against the back of his skull. Michael ached with the shuddering force of an earthquake, every part of him hurting and quivering as he let himself break. 

Sometimes hope was the most painful feeling of all.

**Author's Note:**

> Look I'm sorry. I TRIED To go with the obvious but the angst wants what it wants.
> 
> I'm on tumblr as [alexanderlightweight](https://alexanderlightweight.tumblr.com)


End file.
